


The Library Chose You

by Adapted_Batteries



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Bleeding Out, Gen, The Librarians Shipathon, The Librarians Shipathon 2017, jenkins and ezekiel working together, jenklits week, other dimension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 13:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11510490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adapted_Batteries/pseuds/Adapted_Batteries
Summary: Someone is using magic in southeastern Idaho. What was a simple investigation quickly snowballed into a dire situation only Ezekiel and Jenkins can fix...from the inside.Warning: Graphic description of blood/bleeding out





	The Library Chose You

“What’s so magical about Idaho? Hikers disappear all the time,” Ezekiel said, reading the newspaper clippings in the clippings book.

“That’s precisely the point, Mr. Jones. No one suspects a thing if it’s just average hikers disappearing at a statistically normal rate,” Jenkins added. “And you should know by now that if the clippings book tells us something, it has to involve magic.”

Ezekiel looked up to the only other person in the room. “Guess we have to go investigate, Red.”

“Shouldn’t we get Jacob?” Cassandra asked.

“While Mr. Stone would like to object to my advice of bedrest, he is not in any position to argue at the moment,” Jenkins said. “Until the serpents finish their work on his leg, Mr. Stone cannot move at all, or go out of range from the rod of Asclepius.” He looked at the Librarians standing on either side of him. “I am only a phone call away, if you need me.”

“We’ll be fine, eh Cassandra? Just a fun afternoon in the woods...where people have gone missing...and magic is involved,” Ezekiel said in a not very confident tone.

“Flynn just had to keep that appointment today, and drag Eve with him,” Cassandra mumbled, already gathering items they would need for their investigation.

“Appointments left by previous Librarians are no light matter,” Jenkins corrected. He gave her a consoling smile. “Regardless, they should be back soon, tomorrow at the latest.” 

Ezekiel, who had disappeared apparently, walked back into the Annex with a backpack, opening the main compartment for her. “Ready to go?”

Cassandra stuck some magical analysis tools into the bag. “Yup, unless you want snacks.”

“I don’t intend to be out there all day,” Ezekiel said, zipping the backpack closed and slinging it onto his back. “Though if you wanna make those pizza bagel things-”

“Time may be of the essence, Mr. Jones,” Jenkins interrupted, rolling his eyes. He motioned to the backdoor, already open and glowing blue white with magic. 

Cassandra patted Ezekiel on the shoulder. “When we get back, some pizza bagels will have your name on them.”

Ezekiel looked considerably happier at that statement. “Off to the Idaho wilderness we go!” he exclaimed, then leapt through the portal. 

Ezekiel and Cassandra stumbled out of the door on top of a fire watchtower. Thankfully said tower was empty as it was off season, otherwise a confused park ranger would be chasing them down the stairs. The walkway was quite narrow, and quite high up, Ezekiel noticed; wooden safety railing was all that kept him and Cassandra from tumbling over the edge and falling thirty feet.

“Oookaay, so what exactly are we looking for?” Cassandra asked, bounding down the stairs into the fresh spring forest. 

“The clippings were lovingly vague about anything magic,” Ezekiel answered, fishing around in the backpack as he followed her, “which means it could be just about anything. Here, take your scanner, that’s probably our best bet.”

Cassandra took the scanner from him and started typing on the screen. “Keep an eye out for any runes too. If they aren’t charged up, the scanner won’t pick up anything.”

They walked a whole two minutes before Ezekiel spotted something. “Hey Cassandra, got some weird carvings on a tree over here.”

Cassandra, who had been heading in another direction on a trace of magic, stopped and walked over to him. They both looked at the carving in the bark like someone who’s at an art gallery but doesn’t have the faintest clue why the painting’s so important. 

Cassandra tapped at her scanner, waving it over the rune. “It’s not charged, no residual magic hanging around either, but something was emitting a faint signal behind us. Take a picture for Jenkins, we can show him when we get back,” she said, reconfiguring her scanner to pick back up on the other magic.

Another fifteen minutes of following what appeared to be several distinct traces of magic and five runes in a large pentagram-esque shape around a clearing later, the two returned to the Annex via the fire watchtower. 

“Back so soon?” Jenkins said from behind the bookshelves.

“We found runes,” Ezekiel started, pulling out his phone. “I took pictures of all of them. We didn’t recognize any-” Ezekiel looked at his phone, brows knit in confusion. “What, where are the pictures? I swear I took them!”

“Could you have accidentally deleted them?” Cassandra suggested, trying to be helpful.

“No, Ezekiel Jones doesn’t accidentally delete pictures. It’s like I never even took them, no trace at all, even in the phone’s cache,” Ezekiel explained.

“Did you find anything else out there?” Jenkins asked, nodding at the scanner still in Cassandra’s hand.

“Yes, there was some residual magic, though not around any of the runes, and they were all different slightly,” Cassandra stated.

“Different in what way?” Jenkins prodded, hoping to get more information.

“Uh, well the scanner was picked up five slightly different frequencies. If I hadn’t calibrated the scanner to be so detailed they would all easily blend into the same band,” Cassandra said, confusion finding its way to her face as well.

Jenkins could at least help the two on this one. “Magic carries fingerprints, if you will, of the one who used it. From what you found, we can conclude that the same type of magic was used, by five different people. Were the readings about equal for each in intensity?”

“Yeah, they were all really faint, like decades had passed, but virtually equal in decay. The readings were too low for me to tell what type of magic they used, though,” Cassandra clarified. 

“But those runes didn’t look that old at all, some even had sap still oozing out,” Ezekiel added.

“Then that tells us these people are trying to hide the magical evidence. It is possible to clear the air of magical residue, but it isn’t easy to do, thus why you could still pick up the traces. And if the cleansing ritual didn’t properly complete for whatever reason, it would have released the built up energy, which could have interfered with your phone.” Jenkins suddenly walked out of the Annex, leaving the two to look at each other in confusion.

No sooner than he left, Jenkins returned, an ever so slightly shimmering staff in his right hand that clashed with his “well to-do gentlemen” vibe. 

“What’s with the wizard staff?” Ezekiel asked.

“This is a staff of protection. Think of it as a magical lightning rod. It will absorb any magic intended to target whoever is holding it and ground it into the earth where it diffuses to the ley lines,” Jenkins said.

“Why do we need a staff of protection?” Cassandra asked warily.

“Considering I am the only one with enough knowledge about magical runes at the moment, I have to see them in person to analyze. And because that cleansing spell is not child’s play, I prefer to have some protection,” Jenkins answered, walking towards the backdoor. 

Cassandra and Ezekiel followed him to the door. “I thought you were immortal,” Ezekiel said, an eyebrow raised to hide his concern. Cassandra was not doing much in the way of hiding her concern, her eyes wide in worry.

“Immortality does not mean I am completely unaffected by magic, nor do you two have any other protection either,” Jenkins responded, a hint of graveness in his voice. With that, he stepped through the still-glowing portal. Ezekiel and Cassandra shared a look of concern before walking through after him.

\---

The forest looked the same as Cassandra and Ezekiel left it, except for the people in hooded black robes standing in precisely the middle of the pentagram shape that the runes made. The trio hadn’t exactly been quiet on their walk either, considering they didn’t think the people would show up so quickly. 

“Outsiders! Stop right where you are. Wizard, drop the staff!” The tallest person said in a deep voice, hands held out in front of himself like he was preparing to catch a football. He would’ve looked silly, but the crackling red magic swirling in his hands did loads to up his intimidation factor.

The trio stopped as asked, deferring leadership to Jenkins who did not immediately put the staff down. “Who do you think you are, using magic like that?” Jenkins countered, putting on his most booming and authoritative voice. Ezekiel noticed the leader flinched slightly at Jenkins’s question. 

“How dare you disobey my command, Wizard. I should blast you right where you stand,” the leader growled. The other robed figures had formed around the trio, trapping them. 

“And just what are you doing that requires you to poorly erase your trail?” Jenkins tested, scowling. 

“Why should I tell you such a thing? Hmmph, I’m done with all these questions you keep asking. You meet your doom today, Wizard!” He spread his hands, and the harmless little ball of magic suddenly expanded to the size of a basketball. With nothing more than a stare, the ball hurled its way towards Jenkins, expanding again to twice its size as it went. Jenkins merely stood there, holding the staff slightly in front of himself.

Though they should’ve all been incinerated on the spot, the fireball instead hit some invisible barrier a foot from the staff, then funneled into the top of the staff and presumably emptied the raw magic into the earth, not that the staff looked any different as it sucked in the fireball.

“This doesn’t need to get messy,” Jenkins rumbled, holding the staff, ready to fight.

The shorter hooded figure on the leader’s left leaned over and whispered something. The leader then straightened, a low laugh rumbling from him. “Yes, that I agree on.” He lowered his hands, clasping them together as he nodded to the rest of his groupies who all did the same. “Tell me, Wizard, why are you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jenkins said, relaxing slightly from his defensive stance.

“So be it,” the leader said as if mildly inconvenienced. He turned on his heel and started walking off. “Theral, the gas, please.” 

The one who responded to the request was apparently behind them. Ezekiel heard the clink of metal hitting the rocks on the ground, and a suspicious looking smoke quickly engulfed them. “Jenkins! Will this affect you?” Ezekiel whispered harshly, though the last sentence came out more like “will thsss afffft y” as the gas did its job.

Ezekiel got his answer when the immortal knight stumbled and fell backwards into him and Cassandra, the last thing he remembered before everything went black.

\---

Before Ezekiel opened his eyes, he felt the pressure of rope around his wrists and ankles. Further observation told him it was rock climbing rope, not the standard rough fiber everyone liked to use. Something hard pressed against most of his back, but it wasn’t the backpack. He opened his eyes sluggishly, clearing his head to assess the situation.

Cassandra was slumped on the ground next to him, also against the tree that pushed into his back. Jenkins was not, though he saw the staff and his backpack leaning against a tree about fifteen feet away. “Cass….Cassandra,” Ezekiel whispered, but she didn’t respond, apparently still out cold from the gas. 

With a huff, Ezekiel sat himself up, finding the hooded figures, and a tied Jenkins on his knees surrounding some piled stones. He fiddled with his bonds while he watched them, not exactly sure what they were doing. By the time he got his hands and ankles free, a glint of metal from one of the hooded figures caught his eye. A mild amount of dread filled his stomach as his brain suggested possible things that could glint in the sunlight. He undid Cassandra’s bonds as quickly as he could, then scurried over to the unsecured staff and backpack and brought them back to her as she just started stirring. 

Giving no explanation to her besides a finger to his lips, Ezekiel disappeared into the tree line, skirting the group. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do to help Jenkins. At the moment it was five to one until he could get Jenkins loose, and at least one of them was armed with something. Maybe he could distract them, knick the knife or knives, get Jenkins cut free. It was all very last minute, and that minute got much smaller when the hooded figure directly behind Jenkins pulled out a blade and stuck it to his throat. 

“Jenkins!” Ezekiel yelled, bounding towards the group as fast as he could. He could hear chanting now from someone with a higher pitched voice than the leader. 

“Focus,” the leader growled, not apparently doing anything to stop Ezekiel.

It didn’t matter anyway; Ezekiel was too late. The chanter raised their voice, practically screaming the last words, just as he got within combat range of the group. At the last word, the knife slit Jenkins’s throat, earning a gurgled yelp.

“JENKINS!!!” Ezekiel screamed this time, shoving the knife bearer aside with all his might to reach Jenkins. He touched the knight’s shoulder, suddenly noticing the oversized, fancy looking gold key now coated in immortal blood on the makeshift stone altar. Somewhere in the back of his mind Ezekiel remembered this wouldn’t kill Jenkins, but seeing red splurt out of his neck didn’t exactly help.

He blinked, and suddenly the world looked a lot different. Everything looked muted, like something sucked half the color out of the forest, except for the sky which went a vibrant purple. The hooded figures were gone and so was the altar and key, which meant Jenkins was now leaning on nothing and still bleeding out on the forest floor.

It took him a moment to register that the warbling sobbing sound was coming from him. He kneeled down in the horrifyingly warm, faintly red pool, rolling Jenkins on his side after he undid the ropes. Water dripped onto Jenkins’s cheek, but he looked up at the clear purple sky, then realized that crying tends to go along with the sobbing he was doing. 

“One...moment,” Jenkins croaked, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Blood dribbled out the corner of his mouth closest to the ground. 

“I can’t lose you too!” Ezekiel sobbed, uselessly trying to stop the bleeding with his hands, which did nothing more than coat them. Images flashed in his mind, images of his other colleagues in various states of dying via the rage people in the video game loop. He shook his head hard, squinting his eyes closed.

“Won’t...lose...me,” Jenkins rasped, a weak hand gripping at Ezekiel’s arm. Jenkins’s hand made his eyes snap open. 

Suddenly the warm flow stopped; blood quit pouring around Ezekiel’s fingers. Confused, he pulled his hands away, ignoring the dripping on his jeans, to see that what had been a gaping wound looked like a really nasty scar with blood spattered on it.

“See? I am immortal, remember?” Jenkins said in his normal voice, definitely not like he just had his windpipe sliced open.

Ezekiel looked at his hands, then at the pool of blood still there, then at Jenkins who had now sat up. He looked tired, but alive. “Heh, forgot about the whole immortal thing,” Ezekiel breathed, barely restraining himself from wiping his hands on his jeans.

“I am a mess,” Jenkins huffed, looking down his front which was thoroughly dyed a faint reddish brown. He looked back up to Ezekiel, annoyance swapped for concern. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm, oh yeah, totally fine, not freaking out at all, cos’ you’re alive,” Ezekiel panted, not doing a great job of regulating his breathing. 

“Ezekiel, it’s alright, I’m fine, you didn’t lose me. Concentrate on breathing with me,” Jenkins instructed, now doing his best therapeutic voice. 

After a few deepish breaths, Ezekiel said, “Give me, something to do. A goal.”

Jenkins looked perplexed, but went with it. “We need to get back to the fire watchtower. There will be a cache box we can get supplies from.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Ezekiel stood up, a bit shaky on his feet until he got moving. Without thinking, he wiped his hands on his jeans as best as he could.

As Jenkins suggested, at the bottom of the tower was a cache box with the park’s logo painted on, locked by a simple padlock. “Can you open it?” Jenkins asked, more to boost Ezekiel’s ego than anything.

“Of course, this is child’s play,” Ezekiel scoffed, whipping out his wallet and pulling two pins out. Within a few seconds the padlock clicked and opened. Inside were some basic survival equipment; dried camping food, bottles of water, firestarters, a thermal blanket, a hatchet. “What do we need?”

Jenkins pondered the contents of the box. “What we need to find is the key, since it’s what got us here,” he started, pausing to look up at the tower. “There might be more in the tower itself, or at least we can get a better visual to perhaps find the hooded figures, if they traveled here with us.”

“It’s probably locked, but that’s no problem for me,” Ezekiel said, reaching in and grabbing a water bottle. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find some spare clothes for you…”

The lock on the door proved no match for Ezekiel Jones. Unfortunately the place looked pretty cleared out, just bare furniture and radio equipment, until he found a locked trunk under the bed.

“I hope you don’t mind overalls, Jenkins,” Ezekiel snickered as he pulled out a pair of light denim overalls from the trunk. Further digging found a super faded maroon and gold plaid workshirt as well. “Don’t tell Stone you attempted to outdo him on the whole country bumpkin look.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jenkins mumbled, fiddling with his blood-crusted bowtie.

“Here, water to clean your neck,” Ezekiel said, handing him the bottle. 

“Thank you. Might I suggest you take advantage of one yourself, for your hands,” Jenkins said, shrugging out of his ruined suit coat. “Was there anything that would fit you in that chest? Your pants look a little worse for wear.”

Ezekiel looked at his jeans, re-registering that he did wipe his hands, and thus from his thighs down was coated in coagulating blood. His canvas shoes didn’t look so great either, but he hadn’t seen any footwear. “Uh, I think there were some sweatpants, they at least have a drawstring,” he said, digging through where he had seen them last. Once he found them he stood up and walked to the door. “I’m gonna wash my hands, before I start making everything sticky.”

“I’ll be down in a moment,” Jenkins replied, mildly grimacing as he messed with his own sticky shirt buttons.

\---

Ezekiel had to stifle a laugh when Jenkins descended the stairs. 

“I do not want to hear a peep about my unfortunate wardrobe,” Jenkins said, glaring Ezekiel’s laugh away.

“Sure thing,” Ezekiel snickered.

“If you keep laughing I won’t tell you what I saw up there,” Jenkins countered.

Ezekiel went quiet. “What did you see?”

“Some tents about a mile south of here, in a clearing,” Jenkins responded, walking over to the cache box. He took the hatchet out.

“Woah, what are you gonna do, go hack up the camp?” Ezekiel said, instinctively taking a step back from him.

“No, but a little intimidation doesn’t hurt,” Jenkins said, shrugging. “That key is a dangerous artifact, which they’ve apparently been using at the cost of those missing hikers. We have to get it from them.”

“Agreed...but how are we going to do that?” Ezekiel asked, pilfering in the cache box for something he could use.

“It depends on how well they’re guarding it. Presumably they think I’m dead, and probably don’t know that you tagged along either, so we have the element of surprise,” Jenkins thought aloud. “Even without the staff, we should be relatively safe. Along with the color, the magic feels muted as well, enough to make them struggle to call up fireballs.”

“Where are we anyway? Did we teleport?” Ezekiel said. Finally after rooting around under the thermal blanket, he found a multi tool, not dissimilar from a Swiss army knife.

“Since when has a key ever teleported you?” Jenkins countered. Ezekiel looked at him, confused, so Jenkins continued. “Keys open doors, yes? This key just happens to open a door to another dimension parallel to ours. As that key is the only magical object that we know of anchored back to our reality, that is our only way back.”

Ezekiel sighed, leaning against the now closed cache box. “And here I was hoping this was going to be a short mission.”

Jenkins gave him a rare sympathetic look that then shifted to curiosity. “Did you really think I was going to die back there?”

Ezekiel schooled his expression to blankness, but he couldn’t really play off the panic attack. “Sort of. When the fear took over all I saw was you bleeding out in front of me. I couldn’t think straight.” He laughed, trying to make light of the seriousness. “It’s stupid, I just lapsed, that’s all.”

Now Jenkins looked concerned. “Ezekiel, it is not stupid. You had a panic attack, that is no laughing matter. I thought…hoped you had finally grown out of being so dismissive and uncaring months ago.”

“I do care!” Ezekiel snapped, startling them both. 

Jenkins stood silently for a few moments, pondering his next question. “Why did you say ‘I can’t lose you too’?”

Ezekiel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Besides Flynn, I’ve seen everyone I care about die, which includes you now too, sort of.”

Jenkins squinted in confusion. “When did you see the rest die? Colonel Baird is the only one we about lost.”

“When we went to the DARPA facility, that whole time loop thing, it took me hundreds of respawns to get them through. Some of them were my own deaths, but most of them were from one of the others dying.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Let me tell you, rage people do not kill you softly.”

“Colonel Baird said you didn’t remember though,” Jenkins said.

“I didn’t, not until we got trapped in Prospero’s little heaven for us. My guess was that memory magic unlocked wherever those memories got hidden when I had to remember that I wasn’t Ezekiel Jones, FBI agent,” Ezekiel concluded. 

“The panic attacks have been going on that long, then,” Jenkins said.

“More or less, yeah.” 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Jenkins asked.

“Cos’ that’s not the Ezekiel Jones way, talking about feelings and stuff. Besides, no one took me anymore seriously afterwards,” Ezekiel countered. 

“To everyone else, you were acting mostly the same,” Jenkins responded.

“Mostly?”

“I had my suspicions about your change of heart based on your actions these past few months. Sacrificing yourself to get past Anubis, hiding the fact you were tracking the weather for Mr. Stone and Miss Cillian, rescuing me from DOSA. I’m sure there’s things I didn’t get to see while you were on missions as well.” Jenkins paused, thinking. “Though I didn’t understand why you were intent on playing overkill vampire hunter.”

“Oh that? I just wanted to have the tactical upper hand, you know, bring anything we could use to get rid of them,” Ezekiel said, looking down at his shoes as he said the last statement.

“For Cassandra’s sake I’m glad you didn’t get to use your tools. From what she told me, you were somewhat intent on putting a stake through Estrella,” Jenkins said, watching his expression.

“I dunno, it felt like I was back in the video game loop, and all the vampires were rage people I had to keep from getting me and my friends. I didn’t snap out of it until you saved me and Stone,” Ezekiel admitted returning his gaze to Jenkins.

Jenkins looked at him with renewed sympathy. “It takes a long time for a soldier to leave that persona behind.”

“How would you know?” Ezekiel asked.

“I was a knight of Camelot, after all,” Jenkins reminded him. “Even then, I still feel myself slip into that life when I have a sword in hand.” He looked away into the forest wistfully for a moment. “Just know that you can talk to all of us, about anything. Hiding something like that is only going to make things worse in the long run.”

“I know, I just...I just didn’t want to be seen as broken, messed up,” Ezekiel confessed. Jenkins opened his mouth to say something but Ezekiel cut him off. “And I know how stupid that sounds now, since no one thought any less of Cassandra, but I thought it was different for me, that I’d be easier for everyone to hate, and then I’d leave.”

“I...we would never kick you out. The Library chose you, and no one argues with the Library and feels good about it,” Jenkins said. 

“You sure didn’t seem to like me for a long time,” Ezekiel said, folding his arms across his chest. “Always treated me like I was the kid who didn’t know anything and you were the old man who knew more.”

“To be fair, I do know more than you, that just comes with living for centuries,” Jenkins added with a smile. 

Ezekiel smiled back. “Did you know I wanted to impress you? I wanted to prove that I was worth something, even compared to you being a knight. You and Baird were the first people I actually looked up to for ages.”

“Not Flynn?”

“It’s not like Mr. Disappearing Act was there half the time to look up to. It’s different now, I guess,” Ezekiel explained. He shook his head, then stood up straight, back to his usual self. “Enough mushy stuff. We have a key to steal.”

Jenkins wasn’t quite ready to let the conversation end. “You don’t have to hide, you know. I do care, it’s in the name of my position after all.”

“I know you do.” Ezekiel started heading in the direction of the camp. “A mile this way, yeah?”

“Give or take a few hundred feet. Mr. Stone was the land surveyor, after all,” Jenkins said, following after Ezekiel with an affectionate smile on his face.

\---

The camp was a lot bigger than what Jenkins could see from the tower. A bunch of tents were scattered about the clearing in no particular order, well more than five people would need. A few crude log buildings were in the middle of construction as well. 

“They could just be crazy cultists. It looks more like a living compound than anything,” Jenkins whispered as the two kneeled in underbrush outside of the camp. 

“Why are they setting up here?” Ezekiel asked. “What makes this dimension so great?”

“Well until now, they were most likely the only ones here. Great way to start up a new society unhindered,” Jenkins answered. “As for why they want to do that, your guess is as good as mine. It can’t be centered around magic, unless the key becomes a spigot of sorts.”

Ezekiel watched the people move about, studying their movements. None of them had their hoods up anymore; they looked normal that he could tell. “The tent with torches in front of it, no one has gone inside or come out. None of the others have two torches either.”

“That would probably be their sacred tent, a good location for the key. And thanks to their ignorance of us, no guards to deal with,” Jenkins added. “However we don’t know how to use the artifact to get back. It could be as simple as willing yourself back, or it could need blood and chanting again.”

“For all we know the blood and stuff was for messed up show,” Ezekiel said. “We haven’t had any artifacts require this much...work...to use.”

“No, but there’s a first for everything,” Jenkins said. “If it requires magic to operate, I can do it.”

“So you are a wizard?” Ezekiel teased.

“Oh no. But I have a spell that’s been keeping me alive, and after so many centuries, magic slowly accumulates on it like a not very sticky lint roller. And you don’t spend a long time with the Library without learning a thing or two,” Jenkins explained. 

Suddenly Jenkins got a lot more mysterious to Ezekiel Jones, but that curiosity would have to wait. “I can get the key, no problem.” He eased into a movable crouch, but Jenkins caught his arm.

“Wait, don’t let it touch your skin. You’ve been around the Library long enough that you could trigger it,” Jenkins advised. 

“Got it.” Without any more acknowledgement, Ezekiel disappeared into the forest. 

He skirted around the camp, coming up to the back of the suspected tent. He waited for one of the men to walk past, then slid a hand under the simple canvas, feeling for anything blocking his way in. Something wooden covered most of the back wall, so Ezekiel slipped under to the side of it. 

The tent was dark and empty of people. He didn’t have a light thanks to the cultists taking the backpack and his phone when they knocked him out, thus Ezekiel relied on his deft hands to do the finding for him. His attention first went to that wooden thing, a stand of some sort. The stand itself was unimportant, just a wooden box sat on its short side, it was what sat on top that really mattered. On a pile of cloth, maybe a blanket, was the key. Using the blanket as a buffer, he felt the outline to make sure it wasn’t anything else. 

The blanket itself was too much to carry off easily, but thankfully he had layered against the cool spring air. Slipping off his jacket, he grabbed the key, wrapped it up, and tucked it against his side like a football. Then, as quietly as he arrived, Ezekiel exited the tent, listening for crunching footsteps before being absorbed back into the forest. He circled around the camp once more, arriving at the spot he left Jenkins.

“That was too easy,” Ezekiel said, announcing his presence. Jenkins hadn’t realized he returned so soon; he jumped slightly at the sound of Ezekiel’s voice.

“Don’t sneak up on me!” Jenkins whispered harshly. “Come on, let’s go back to the pentagram before they realize they are going to be stuck here for a long time.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Ezekiel quipped, slinking off into the forest.

They were halfway there when shouts broke through the forest behind them. What had been a meer speed walking session turned into a run. 

Ezekiel undid his jacket hastily, offering the key to Jenkins. “Alright, do your, magic thing,” Ezekiel panted, watching behind them. 

“Hold on to me. You had a hand on my shoulder last time,” Jenkins instructed. The shouts grew louder, but Jenkins had his eyes closed, concentrating hard. 

A minute went by, and nothing happened. The shouts grew louder still. “Jenkins, they’re coming,” Ezekiel whispered, not really wanting to disturb him, but nervous nonetheless.

“It’s...taking some...time,” Jenkins said, sounding like he was lifting something heavy.

“They’re getting away!” the leader bellowed. Ezekiel’s eyes centered on him as he entered the small clearing. For effect apparently, he had put his hood back up; at the moment it was something Ezekiel didn’t want to see.

Suddenly everything was much greener and browner. The hooded figure vanished, along with the unearthly purple in the sky. “We’re back!” Ezekiel shouted, startling Jenkins out of his concentration. 

“Ezekiel? Jenkins?” Cassandra called from behind them. The two whipped around to the noise to see Cassandra and Stone gawking at them. “What on earth are you wearing?”

“It was necessary,” Jenkins breathed out, glancing down at the key. “We need to get this to the Library.”

“You guys have been gone for two days,” she said, running up to both and hugging them. 

“Really? It felt like an hour max,” Ezekiel said, looking at Jenkins for confirmation.

“That’s why they were setting up there. It’s a living time capsule. They can stay there a few weeks and almost three years would’ve passed here,” Jenkins said.

“So...where are they?” Cassandra asked, looking around the clearing. 

“Still in that dimension,” Ezekiel answered. “So all that ritual, it was a show?”

“We don’t know, it could be that getting back here requires less,” Jenkins said, shuddering a little.

“Cassandra told me what happened, or what she saw anyway,” Stone started, glancing from Jenkins to Ezekiel. 

“It’s not the first time, not that it was a pleasant experience,” Jenkins admitted. The Librarians looked at him wide eyed. “I assume Flynn and Colonel Baird are still occupied with the appointment?”

“Yeah, we got a hold of them yesterday. They were still in Cairo last we know,” Stone answered. 

Jenkins nodded. “We don’t have any reason to be out here any longer. I would much rather return to the Annex.”

“The backdoor is still connected to the fire watchtower. We kept it connected in case you came back,” Cassandra said as they walked.

“How very kind of you Miss Cillian,” Jenkins responded. 

“And there are some pizza bagels waiting on you, Ezekiel,” she added.

Ezekiel’s face lit up like it was Christmas. “You’re the best, Cassandra!” Having no self restraint, he bounded up the stairs and lept through the portal. The rest of the group looked amongst themselves, a mix of amusement, tiredness, and endearment. 

\---

Jenkins savored some relaxing chamomile and lavender tea as he watched Ezekiel happily devour his food. He glanced over at Jenkins, giving him a thankful smile which Jenkins returned, before he looked back at Cassandra who had been talking about what they had been doing the past two days to look for them. 

Jenkins knew it was a start, something to give Ezekiel the push he needed to at least be open with him, and eventually the rest of the team as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Well this got longer than I intended, but it was fun to write. Originally I was going to have Jenkins and Ezekiel bicker like they did in season one, but I guess I’m still in my post season 3 writing mode/I want people to communicate their feelings/Ezekiel’s possible PTSD is still on my mind. 
> 
> The whole Ezekiel remembering thing is based off [flynnscarnation’s theory](http://flynnscarnation.tumblr.com/post/161671796650/on-ezekiel-remembering-2x08) that Prospero inadvertently gave Ezekiel his memories back when he had to remember who he was in “And the Happily Ever Afters.” As for the theory that remembering has given him PTSD, there’s a whole [post](http://adapted-batteries.tumblr.com/post/160739187037/queerseth-despite-how-his-character-development) where I went off what queerseth said and a bit on what [flynnscarnation](http://adapted-batteries.tumblr.com/post/160747341617/flynnscarnation-queerseth-despite-how-his) said too.
> 
> Also shout out to [hamelott](http://hamelott.tumblr.com) for your amazing tag for Flynn (disappearing act) that I ended up using to describe Flynn without realizing it.


End file.
